The Prince of Labirya
by Dark Blaze1
Summary: Not all fairy tales are about fairies, and not all heroes end up getting what they want. This is a "mature" fairy tale.


Title: The Prince of Labirya  
  
By Dark Blaze  
  
Pairing: none that matters, mention of het at the end, (can be shonen-ai, depending on how you look at it)  
  
Warnings: AU, no names given, a serious fic (it might not be your cup of tea)  
  
  
  
Once there was a fair, young prince, who had everything in the world money could buy. As with all other classic stories, the young prince wasn't satisfied with his life. Everything had seemed fine when he had still been very tender in age, but as he grew up from a boy to a teenager, he realized how empty and meaningless his life was. Day by day, his activities consisted on simply going to the school for young nobles, learning music and fencing and dancing and all the fine arts a young noble was supposed to know, then coming home to be fussed by a herd of servants and having all his whims fulfilled. All, except one.  
  
The prince was restless. His dissatisfaction grew more and more each day, until finally the prince couldn't stand it anymore and decided to leave, against the order of his father, the king.  
  
Labirya, the land where the prince came from, was a land of peace. For as long as he had lived, the young prince had never, not even once, seen or heard what sorrow and anxiety war could bring. In his inexperienced mind, he imagined that everyone else was as happy as the people of his father's kingdom. As he left his homeland though, and traveled further and further to the South, he saw more and more signs of poverty and destruction and suffering. And then one day he saw first hand what it was like for civillians to be trapped in a kingdom that was at war. Screams. Horror. Agony. Innocence lost. Blood spilled. Fire. Explosions. Guns barking. Smoke. Corpses. Rubbles. Ruins. Green grass turning black, the ground turning sticky crimson.  
  
Horrified by what he witnessed, he decided to become a soldier himself and helped the kingdom of the innocents he had witnessed killed. He longed to protect those innocents. He volunteered and joined the mercenary, believing that the side he had joined was the one that had been wronged.  
  
He witnessed more death, this time up-close. More destruction, this time on his hands. Anger. Rage. Hatred. Fear. Anguish.  
  
Innocence lost.  
  
Fire. Explosions. Guns barking. Smokes.  
  
He told himself that this was different. He tried to convince himself that the side he was fighting against deserved it. But it was difficult. He had seen too much. He had killed, and had seen the agony and betrayal in the eyes of the people they killed, as if asking "why, what did I do to you?" It was just not the same anymore.  
  
Confused and lost, he started to see how meaningless all the fighting seemed to be. He started to consider to leave the mercenary. Everytime he was about to though, he found himself unable to. It was as if by leaving the mercenary, he would betray his comrades. And comrades indeed they had become. He had shared meals with them as well as sleeping tents, and he had heard their stories. He had even made friends with some of them. He couldn't leave, not with that knowledge weighing down on him.  
  
Unknown to him, his comrades, especially the four closest to him, did notice the changes in his behavior. They saw the anxiety in his eyes everytime the group received a new mission and relocated to a new place. They noticed the hesitation in him everytime his eyes happened to land on one of the civillian's dwellings. They weren't blind to his reluctance everytime he had to pick up his weapon again for another battle, or the subdued and regretful look in his eyes everytime a battle ended. Finally, after a particularly bad mission, the four decided to confront their friend personally and privately to hear out whatever it was that he was hiding from them.  
  
At first the prince refused to talk, but they continued to press on, and in the end, after a long silence, he sat down and reluctantly told them what was weighing heavily on his mind. He told them how the war seemed so meaningless, the battles nothing but an endless killing. Nothing seemed to have been accomplished, except for the destruction of both the kingdoms at war. He told them that everytime they passed a village or a city, and everytime he looked at the civillians that peeked out from inside their homes, he wondered how many more of those innocent people, who didn't even know what the war was really about, would lose everything they had, including their families and their own lives. And he wondered if the monarch of both kingdoms were aware of this.  
  
They all were silent after his confession, all sitting now except for one, until finally the one standing nodded and broke the silence in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.  
  
"You're right. This *is* meaningless."  
  
The other three didn't seem too surprised by this statement, and if they did, it was only because it was the tone with which their comrade had spoken.  
  
The prince's brow furrowed slightly. "You sound as if you had thought about it for a long time."  
  
His normally cheerful friend nodded. "All of us have. We just don't talk about it. And I think.. all of us know how meaningless all this really is, including our commander. I just don't think anyone has voiced it out loud yet."  
  
"Hm."  
  
Another one of the circle of friends spoke up, this time the one who usually was all about completing the mission and winning the battle. "None of us really wants to do this." His comrades nodded in agreement.  
  
The prince blinked, totally surprised. "Then why?"  
  
"Why are we doing this?" asked his normally jovial friend.  
  
The prince nodded.  
  
"Because it has to be done," said his mission-oriented friend.  
  
"Because if not us, then it will be someone else," added the jovial one, his voice still uncharacteristically solemn.  
  
"Because if we don't, our people will be conquered completely, and they will suffer. We, the strong, have to fight to protect the weak," the third replied, just as solemn.  
  
"We continue to fight because it's either defeating or being defeated," said the last one, whom the prince knew had lost his parents and sister in an "accidental" bombing. "This is simply a battle of survival."  
  
The prince looked down at his hands, unable to deny the truth in his friends' words. "It's so sad though..."  
  
"It is. And it is unfair," the cheerful one sighed. "But life is never fair."  
  
The prince said nothing and simply stared past his hands to the ground, contemplating over what had just been said. He still didn't think killing was the answer, but in his friends' words, he couldn't find any other way to avoid war. Though... Maybe unless...  
  
His friends watched him in silence, giving him the space to think, until one of them, the one who usually was silent, the one who had lost his family in a bombing, suddenly spoke up.  
  
"You're thinking of leaving, aren't you."  
  
Startled, the prince looked up at them. Four pair of eyes, ranging in shades and colors, stared back at him, each tainted with various degrees of affection and concern.  
  
"When?" the one who was mission-oriented asked quietly.  
  
The prince shook his head. "I don't know yet. I don't.. I'm not ready to leave yet."  
  
The jovial one sighed. "You're killing a little of yourself more the longer you hang around, you know."  
  
The prince shook his head again, harder this time. "I'm not ready to leave yet..."  
  
"You're staying only because of your loyalty," one of the four, the one with the raven eyes, interrupted him firmly. "Your heart is no longer in this. You will only get yourself killed if you stay."  
  
The prince winced slightly but couldn't deny the truth in his friend's words, harsh though they might be. And he could hear as well the truth about how much his friend cared about him in the blunt statement.  
  
The jovial one kneeled down in front of him, large, brilliant eyes staring levelly into his. "Do you want to leave now?" The prince didn't answer, but there was no need to. Those eyes were able to penetrate through him and looked into what was in his heart. And his friend spoke softer, "You do, don't you?"  
  
"But.."  
  
"If you want to leave now," his mission-oriented friend spoke from somewhere above him, and with a start he realized that his friend had gotten to his feet, ready to join the larger circle by the fire, "then leave. I'll take care of the rest."  
  
The prince looked at him then nodded slightly. "I'm sorry."  
  
His friend simply nodded, and for a brief moment the cold, blue eyes softened. Then the moment was gone, and the mission-oriented mercenary marched back to the group sitting by the fire. The brief moment was the only assurance the prince had that his friend hadn't turned indifferent toward him.  
  
His jovial friend smiled and hugged him briefly before the bright-eyed soldier too, got to his feet and left.  
  
The third one simply nodded at him, raven eyes portraying loyalty and respect, before he left.  
  
The prince looked at the last one, expecting no words of farewell.  
  
"..You are from a different kingdom, aren't you?" the mercenary spoke suddenly, his tone quiet, neither accusing nor questioning.  
  
The prince blinked, startled.  
  
"You are not a commoner either," the normally silent man continued, his face still portraying nothing.  
  
"..N..no," the prince stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.  
  
The mercenary simply nodded.  
  
"..How.. long have you known..?"  
  
"I was suspicious since the beginning. You did well, but you did not act enough like a commoner from the same country, even if you really had come from the border as you claimed."  
  
"I'm sorry." The prince bowed his head. "Are you going to tell them?"  
  
"I suspect they already know. In any case, it is not my place to tell them."  
  
The prince nodded, grateful. Then, by an unidentifiable urge, he spoke softly, "I'm from the kingdom of Labirya. The name I use really is my real name, and my mother really did die concieving me, or so I was told. My father is still alive. I traveled away from home against his wish. Labirya is a peaceful kingdom, and most of its people live quite well. I never experienced what war was truly like until I arrived at the border of Sanq. It was at the Newport City that I saw a battle firsthand. I decided to join the mercenary because of what I saw." He fell silent then.  
  
The mercenary watched him for a while then nodded. "I believe you."  
  
The prince breathed out in relief.  
  
They both stayed in silent again before once again the taller young man spoke quiet, "I have never seen an absolute peace before."  
  
The prince smiled. "Then maybe one day you can come to Labirya. I'm sure you will like it."  
  
The mercenary nodded. Another moment passed, then he stood. "You better go before they notice. Not that anyone will stop you." He offered a small smile then.  
  
The prince smiled back. "Thank you. If Fate wills it, may we meet again."  
  
"If Fate wills it," the mercenary repeated with a small nod.  
  
They stared at each other again before once again the taller young man nodded then returned to the group sitting by the fire.  
  
The prince watched them, saddened by the thought of leaving and yet knowing that he needed to. His friends had been right. He couldn't stay, if for his own sake. He got to his feet as well and left, not once turning back.  
  
The kingdom of Labirya rejoiced when the young prince returned to them, now older and much wiser. To the king's pleasant surprise and pride, his son not only had grown to an able man, mind and body, during his journey, he had also taken to his ancestors' values and now truly believed that violence achieved nothing. The young prince showed more interest in political matters, and, portraying all the virtues required from a prince, he took his duty as the heir of the kingdom wholeheartedly and with determination. It was not long before he became known as the young ambassador of Labirya who promoted peace and civilized discussions over battles. Those who challenged him soon learned that although Labirya condemned war, the kingdom was not at all weak, and the prince was even stronger, wise and not easily manipulated.  
  
Years passed, and Labirya continued to stand, even after some of the neighboring countries were erased from the map. The prince was now the new king, though still without a companion. By his suggestion, the kingdom used its considerable wealth to help the poor countries, such as Sanq, to stand and rebuild themselves from what the war had left them with. With so many things going on, the young king had his hands full almost beyond their limits. His past was now mostly forgotten by everyone, except for the king himself.  
  
One day, a traveler came to the kingdom. His appearance was unique, as he still appeared to be quite a handsome young man, but his eyes were old, as if his soul had survived through a thousand lifetimes. His clothes were old and worn, his posession very limited without including anything that would worth stealing.  
  
By Fate, at the very same day, the young king decided to inspect the kingdom. He traveled through the streets, surrounded by only three of his personal guards. As the procession galloped high on their horses through one of such streets, the traveler stumbled slightly out of one of the alleys and to the street, right in front of the king's horse. With a surprised shout the king yanked his stallion's reins, and for a minute he struggled to get his shocked horse back under control. As soon as the stallion calmed down, he jumped down and approached the traveler.  
  
"I'm sorry. Are you all right?"  
  
The traveler looked up, and both the king and the traveler froze, the king recognizing his friend's face in the traveler's, the traveler recognizing the king as his old comrade from the mercenary years ago.  
  
The king let out another shout, this time in joy, and without shame he hugged his friend with plain affection.  
  
The traveler simply blinked, stunned, recognizing the meaning of the clothes and accessories such as the necklace and ring the young king wore. "You.. are a king...?"  
  
The king smiled as he pulled away. "I was a prince, but now I am a king, has been for years. I didn't quite expect to see you again. Where are the others? Are they with you?"  
  
The traveler, once a mercenary, shook his head slightly. "We were scattered after a battle near the heart of Rommerfeller not long after you had left. One and Two decided to team up and join a rebellion group. Last I heard, they had left the battlefield and had joined the Guild of Thieves for The Poor. Five joined another group of mercenary before he decided to work in the medical field. He had been married for eighteen months when an explosion took off the hospital he worked at and killed him and his wife."  
  
"Ah." The young king shook his head, saddened by the news of his friend's death. Then he looked up again at the traveler, and his lips curved to a bittersweet smile. "I'm glad you came. Would you like to accompany me and stay at the castle for a while? It would be an homor for me to have you as my guest."  
  
The traveler hesitated briefly then nodded, accepting the invitation.  
  
The stay lasted for quite a while, days stretching to weeks, to months, until finally almost five years had passed. The young king and his ex- mercenary friend were often found discussing things until late at night, as they shared a lot, not only their past and their personal preference over the finer things in life, but also their beliefs. And for a while the young king was content and happy. As time passed by though, the traveler grew more and more withdrawn, until one day the young king couldn't pretend not to notice any longer and decided to confront his friend.  
  
"Is something the matter? You have been staring at the fire for the past fifteen minutes without uttering a word."  
  
His taller friend jumped slightly at his voice, stayed silent for a while, then shook his head. "No, nothing is."  
  
The king frowned slightly. "We have been friends for years. I would like to think that we have come past worries over the possibilities of little disputes."  
  
Again, his friend was silent, before he finally spoke quietly, "I'm thinking about continuing my journey again one of these days."  
  
The king blinked and blurted out before he could stop himself, "Why??" Then his eyes narrowed. "Has the Council spoken to you again? What did those pompous, overblown goats say now?"  
  
The taller ex-mercenary couldn't help but smile at the way the king described the aristocracies that sat in his Council's chairs. "No, nothing. They have said nothing for weeks now."  
  
The king's irritation changed to worry. "Then what is it?"  
  
".. I appreciate your hospitality, my king, but I cannot stay here," the ex- mercenary said and immediately held up his hand, stopping the king from saying a thing, silently asking the king to simply listen to what he has to say, at least for the moment. "Everything Labirya has done for me has been nothing but wonderful. However..."  
  
"However...?" the king asked, encouraging.  
  
His friend sighed. "I was a mercenary and now a traveler, my king. Peace does not agree with me. Staying idle is a strain for me. I am forever grateful for your company and for your efforts to make me feel at home, however.. I am a commoner, not suited for a noble's life in a palace. The street is my home. I long to travel again."  
  
The king was silent, saddened by his friend's words and assaulted by a slight guilt at the realization that he had been abandoning his friend lately in the face of duty and political meetings. He knew as well that his friend spoke the truth. However much he wanted his friend to stay, he had no right to force him to, just like his friends hadn't forced him to stay in the mercenary years ago. And so, there was only one thing he could say.  
  
"Do you want to leave now?"  
  
His old friend looked up at him, recognizing the words as the same words he and his friends had asked the young king years ago. "..Yes."  
  
"Then I will not stop you." The king smiled, the gesture genuine despite the heaviness in his heart. "If you want to leave, then leave. I will take care of the rest."  
  
His friend smiled, again recognizing the words from the past. It was a sign more than anything that they were still friends and would always be.  
  
Both of them left their chairs and gave each other one last, tight embrace. Then the traveler bowed slightly and left silently, not once looking back.  
  
They never saw each other again afterward. The king took a wife before the year ended, and the queen was pregnant with the heir by summer. Deligted by the news, the kingdom celebrated. Nine months later, a baby boy and a baby girl were born for Labirya. Both of them were raised into a prince and a princess that the entire kingdom was proud of.  
  
The king, his queen, and their twin children, continued to take care of their duties as the monarch seriously, and with responsibility, while proceeding to promote peacetalk over war. And through it all, though he never heard about his friends again, the king never, not even once, forgot about the four young men who had once been in the mercenary with him and fought with him side by side. He remembered until the day he died.  
  
~fin~ 


End file.
